


Every Action Has Its Equal Opposite Reaction

by AWalkingParadox



Series: The Blood In My Veins [1]
Category: Hamilton - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Vampires, Werewolves, may involve blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 13:45:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12411450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWalkingParadox/pseuds/AWalkingParadox
Summary: A one shot that got out of hand. May turn into a story. This is a collab with a friend, but she does not have a AO3 account.





	Every Action Has Its Equal Opposite Reaction

Blood, that’s what Thomas needed right now. Of course Madison had to go on some emergency meeting, He thought, cursing. He hadn’t consumed blood in three days and now his senses were heightened, teasing him and tempting him with the sweet saltiness of blood. He could smell it all around him, and it was tantalising.  
People passed him without a second glance, ignorant the hidden danger lurking right beside them. He never wanted to and never will like taking human blood. His elf friend, Madison, always provided animal blood for him, fresh and clean. But for this month he has to go do some of his elfish businesses. Thomas tried to ration the blood and not consume it all at once, but,  
after a week, it was all gone and Thomas has to bear his hunger for three more weeks till Madison comes back. That was a death sentence.  
He walked into an empty classroom trying calm his raging thoughts and to forget his cravings, if only for just a moment. It helped him focused on how to gain more blood. Perhaps he could get into some clan or hunt some animals for himself. But the prospect of rejection or having blood on his hands(even if only animals) didn’t seem to quite agree with him.  
His musings of blood subsided as he recalled his memories of the time before he became a vampire. There was no need of hiding from the sun, or wearing hoodies to class or taking seats away from the window. He could play outside without worrying about getting scorched or burnt. He could be free without the burden of hiding from his family and friends.  
These thoughts only lasted for about five or six minutes before his nose caught scent of something. Blood.  
Consumed by the thoughts of hunger, he suddenly jumped off his seat attacking the person who just entered the classroom.  
He sank his teeth into the soft flesh, relishing the taste of fresh blood. Somewhere inside himself, he was screaming, yelling to stop, Stop, STOP!  
His victim was screaming, fighting, which was futile. One of those flailing arms did manage to snag at his face, causing a long cut that had blood running down and unto the person below him. He paid it no heed.  
Enough blood was consumed that Thomas began returning to his senses. He wondered what happened? Why was there- a crash resounded as Thomas jumped back in alarm and regret.  
There was a bloody person lying there, still and unmoving. “Oh God, oh God.” Thomas muttered, rushing towards the body. He pushed away the hair covering the person’s face and reeled back, a cry of surprise coming from his lips. Hamilton. Alexander Freaking Hamilton. Thomas ran a hand through his hair, blinking back tears threatening to shed. Guilt churned in his gut as he held two fingers to Hamilton’s neck, hoping that maybe just maybe please, there would be a pulse.  
Tears began pouring down his face when there was one. Yes! He put his arms under Hamilton, running towards the only place he knew where to go, knowing that no one will bother them and ran as fast as he could, knowing full well that he held a bloody body in his arms.  
He shifted his arms so that he was carrying Hamilton in one arm, and began pounding on the door with his other. “Help, please!” He cried, fear gripping his heart as Hamilton’s breathing became more shallow.  
The office door was flung open and Thomas met the eyes of George Washington. The said eyes widened as he took in the sight before him: Thomas carrying Alexander Hamilton who was unconscious and very bloody.  
“What happened.” Washington hissed, ushering him inside and gesturing for him to lay the body on the floor. Washington quickly began checking the pulse and trying to staunch the bleeding.  
The whole story spilled out of him, how he ran out of blood and Hamilton walked in and how he pounced on the latter and sucked his blood and how he tried to stop but he just couldn’t-  
Washington held up a hand. “You bit him.” It was more of a statement than a question, and Thomas flinched at the unbridled fury in the man’s eyes. “Y-Yes.”  
“Did he consumed any of your blood? You do know how people turn to vampires right?”  
Thomas nodded. The one bitten has to have vampire saliva enter his bloodstream as well have vampire blood....Oh God. His hand flew to his face where the once bleeding cut had been, and though it was already healed, where the blood had fallen onto Hamilton. “I t-think he d-did.” He answered, remembering it through hazy memories. Yes, he was sure Hamilton had consumed his blood. There was no denying that fact.  
“What do we do?” Thomas asked, almost pleading.  
“We go through the process.” He sighed, looking to Thomas in an expression akin to pity, though with leftover righteous anger. Thomas froze. “Damn.”  
Washington nodded. “You wait here, I’ll go get some blood for when he gets out.”  
Thomas nodded, still in a daze. He kneeled beside Hamilton, and watched his laboured breathing, knowing that he was dying. “Hamilton, I’m so so so sorry.” He sobbed. “I didn’t m-mean for this to h-happen. I didn’t mean for a-any of this to happen.” He watched as Hamilton breathed his last breathe and heard the door click.  
“He’s dead.” Thomas said numbly, looking up at Washington. The said man nodded, looking out the window, sorrowful. This lasted for a few moments before he spoke. “Let’s go. It’s dark enough that you won’t get burned.” He handed the bottles of blood, who knows from where, to Thomas, and lifting Hamilton into his arms. Thomas followed him as Washington to his car and stood as the man played the body at the back gently. Like a son. Thomas thought.  
“Get in.” Washington said gruffly. Thomas nodded, riding shotgun. Washington started the engine and they sped down the road to the nearest cemetery.  
The ride was awkward at the best.  
“I’m sorry.” Thomas said at last, breaking the silence.  
“What?” Washington responded, glancing at him for a moment before looking back at the road. “For what?”  
“For all this.” Thomas gestured. “I know you hate me, so thank you for helping me.”  
“Why would I hate you?” Washington asked, sounding genuinely shocked. Thomas resisted the urge to laugh.  
“Well, you’re a werewolf, I’m a vampire, that’s bound to stir some hatred. If not that, then the fact that I may as well have turned your son, I know he’s not really your son, but he may as well be.”  
Washington remained silent for a while. Finally, he spoke. “I don’t hate you. I am not bound by those silly prejudice between vampires and werewolves. What happened with Alex was not your fault.”  
At Thomas’s pointed look, Washington conceded, “Alright, it is, but it was unintentional. You couldn’t control it.”  
Thomas opened his mouth to answer, but shut his mouth as the tire screeched. “Let’s go.” Thomas nodded, quickly texting his mom that he was sleeping over that a friend’s house, taking the bottles of blood and following Washington to a bare patch of dirt near some trees.  
For the next hour or so, they buried Hamilton. Then they waited till the moon rose.  
The noise made was horrible, and Thomas winced as he heard the moans of the dead, undead, whatever, as Hamilton dug his way out of the grave. He was nudged forward by Washington. “Go.” He gestured. “You have to feed him the blood, He’ll try to take my blood If I try to feed him.”  
Thomas stepped forward hesitantly, and those eyes stared at him. They were glazed with hunger and Thomas held out an open bottle of blood unsure of what to do. Hamilton rushed forward quickly, taking hold of the bottle and sucking not unlike a baby. When that was finished, Thomas offered another one.  
Soon, Hamilton was finished and began to take in his surroundings. The first thing he did was stood and brushed his clothes, which was almost comical. The next thing he did was punch Thomas in the face.  
Later on, Thomas would admit that yes, he deserved that.

**Author's Note:**

> Done with a friend, said friend does not have an account. If she happens to read this, hi!


End file.
